Consciences and Consequences
by Jewleighuh
Summary: It was running through his blood, it was surrounding his entire being. I can feel death; when it's approaching, lingering, or occurring. That was his essence, and I'll be damned if I can't figure out why a fragile soul is being broken. (Centered during season 3B)
1. Crying through History

It was like being submerged in a never ending dusk. It was the type of weather where it was too warm for a jacket, but too brisk for his v-neck. He was stuck in the gate of hallucinations and reality. And that's the reason he didn't take time to smile anymore. He jokes, of course, but every flash of his teeth is followed by a sullen and deflated look. He was slowly drowning in a nonexistent abyss.

And I knew this because I felt it too.

Being a supernatural being centered around death, I can feel certain things that humans can't. Being a banshee, I could feel the emptiness around his being. It was sad seeing him be like this and knowing he'd have to live with it the rest of his life.

I took note of all of this as he read aloud to me his US history book. He discovered last week that he adapted dyslexia and his grades had been dropping severely since. He stammered through each word, and I could tell he was frustrated with it all.

"President Lincoln ran against corresponding Democrat McCellan in the 1864 election and was favored to lose until the Union cap-ca-" Stiles set the book down, slouched back into the couch, and pressed his hands into his eyes.

"Lydia, it's happening again." He started rubbing his eyes. "Right on time too!"

He slammed his fist on the coffee table in one motion as he said the last line.

I put my hand on his thigh to comfort him.

"Hey, it's alright. I can read the rest to you if you'd like. There's only one page to go so-"

He threw my hand off of him and stood up abruptly.

"No, Lydia, NO. Stop treating me like I'm some charity case. I'm fine." He placed his hand on his forehead and stared straight ahead into the kitchen, trying to calm himself down. He breathing slowed as he stay fixed on the one point. After a couple seconds, he brought his hand down and finally looked into my eyes.

"I'm totally and undoubtedly fine." He sat back down and brought the book onto his lap.

I placed my hand on top of his to stop it from turning to page. I felt every atom in his body freeze, and it made me smile. Not that I liked seeing him fan all over me, but it made me feel good knowing he could feel at least something. "Stiles."

He put the book back down and heaved an annoyed sigh, "I know, I know."

He made some jerky arm motion, something old Stiles would do. "I know you're just looking out for me and whatever but you're doing that THING."

"Excuse me? I AM looking out for you and whatever! And what thing are you referring too?"

He mumbled under his breath.

"Stiles!" He cringed and rubbed the back of neck as he mumbled something with "Inferior."

It was seriously like babysitting some sort of child with the way he was acting. It was good, though. He was showing signs of life and that's all I needed. I always tried instigating his sarcasm as much as I could.

"Wait, what'd you say?" I cupped my hand to my ear pretending to listen better. "I didn't catch it."

He looked beyond annoyed me and I could see his mouth twitching at the corners.

"You're making me feel inferior." He spat out. "Are you happy?"

"I thought that's what you said. I was just making sure." I teased him and giggled at his expression. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You are unbelievable!" he said as he closed his eyes.

I put my arm around him and smirked, "Yeah, but you love me anyways."

I felt him freeze up underneath my arm.

And just like that, he was gone. He opened his eyes, and even if he was about to smile, the dark disease was back upon him. He was breathing heavy and started to panic. He looked around wildly and whispered something incoherent.

"I closed them too long." I was finally able to make out. His eyes kept searching through the air, flipping back and forth rapidly. His breathing increased rapidly. Stiles was having another episode.

I understood that meant he saw the shapes again, and took advantage of the location of my arm. I brought his closer and had his head rest against the inner of my shoulder.

"I closed them too long." He kept repeating through his gasps. I tried shushing him and stroked his hair until there were gaps between his sentences so I could interject.

"Stiles, but they're not real, remember? It's a hallucination."

"Lydia?" He looked up, and I could see his eyes were filling with water. In that moment I envied any girl who has not seen a boy so succumbed to fear that he cries. It is one of the most heart breaking scenes in the world, and it makes it ten times worse when it's a boy like Stiles. He's kind, thoughtful, and so...

Innocent.

"Yes?"

He took a breath and swallowed hard, "Why does this keep happening?"

I wanted to respond but I couldn't. I know he was counting on me for an answer, but I didn't know why. As smart as I was, I couldn't figure out why he had it much worse than Scott or Allison. I couldn't figure out why a person so generous was getting hit with so much pain.

And I'll be damned if I didn't stay up day and night trying to uncover this mystery. So I did. I needed to be there like he has always been there for me.

But I didn't have an answer. So I sat and ran my fingers through his hair, hushing him until his body lie still and his breathing became even.


	2. Humidity and Humility

My internal clock woke me at exactly 7 am with just enough time to get ready before he did. I slid off his comforter and sat up looking around.

It had become more of a routine to sleep at each other's houses than not. Deaton explained to me earlier that week on how I was his anchor for a reason, and after he resurrected from the dead, our connection was severely deepened.

I could feel death in my presence. The cold filtered through my veins and all my thoughts were filled with morbid ones. It was consuming, and it made me wonder how he could deal with it for the rest of his life.

Because that's exactly how I felt every second I was with Stiles.

I searched the room until I saw him laying sound asleep in his computer chair. His legs spread, hands folded in their gap, and his head lolling backwards with his mouth gaping open.

I slightly smirked as he let out a loud snore. I had told him multiple times he could sleep in his own bed, but he never listened. He was insistent on sleeping on the floor or wherever he could find rest.

I sometimes woke screaming at the top of my lungs, and he sometimes couldn't tell reality from his own subconscious. Our slumber parties were purely for safety and comfort.

I knew the Sheriff would be out on an all night case, so I tip-toed past Stiles and entered into his bathroom. I was familiar with the area by now, so I turned on the water and took a relaxing shower.

Afterwards, I walked out in a towel wrapped around my chest. I tapped Stiles gently until he woke up with a start, flailing and looking around the room. He looked mildly sane, so I guessed he was perfectly lucid.

He grudgingly stalked into the bathroom, scratching his head and yawning. It was comfortable being at the Stilinski's house; by now I felt as if I was at home.

I waited until he was in the shower and walked back in to curl my hair in loose waves. I pinned the top layer of my hair up and picked up the searing iron.

Then I heard the front door click open down eyes widened in my reflection in the mirror, and I dropped the curling iron.

"Stiles, son," Sherrie Stilinski started, "Are you awake?"

I scrambled around, looking for places in the small bathroom to hide. I was frantic, no one could know I'd been sleeping with Stiles (not literally).

I heard footsteps increasing up the stairs, and I panicked. As the door knob began turning, I threw myself at the shower curtain and landed in the hot shower. The humidity became instantly uncomfortable in my school clothes.

Stiles stared at me in awe. He stopped all movement and just stood, holding his shampoo in one hand and resting his other on top of his head. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought he was a statue.

'Talk' I mouthed as his dad entered the bathroom.

Still in shock, he nodded slowly. Never breaking eye contact.

"Stiles?"

I felt relieved but slightly irritated as Stiles kept his eyes on mine. After all of our nights together, I was curious about his...exterior.

"Yeah dad?" He responded nonchalantly.

The tension was getting thicker and thicker. I kept quiet about his floor-sleeping because I remembered he still had feelings for me whether or not I could return them. I needed him and he knew that, and I believed he was content with keeping our relationship where it was at.

"Sorry for interrupting but I thought I'd let you know that I'll be home late again, so plan on being by yourself for din-" He cut off. "Son. Is that a curling iron?"

Stiles' head shot towards the direction of his dad as he tried calculating a quick excuse. I took my chance.

I studied his body like a history book. I could feel my own eyes shifting back and forth.

His arms were bulging at the biceps with many of his veins trying to escape. The veins mapped up his arms until it reached the top of his shoulders. His shoulders protruded farther than I had expected, with his collar bones showing through his skin. His chest was slightly less muscled than his arms, but it didn't matter.

My eyes unwillingly transgressed farther down his body. His stomach was laced with abs, sticking out beneath the running water. I let me eyes follow down his perfected v-line and into his slight happy trail-

"I- uh- it's just that I-" Stiles managed to get out. He snapped me back to reality, and I looked up just in time to catch his eyes giving me a questioning look. The water was dripping down his face and I watched him lick his lips as it tried seeping into his mouth. I was mesmerized.

He cleared his throat to grasp my attention again. I saw a small smile flick across his lips, he seemed aggravatingly pleased with himself. He caught me staring twice, it was obvious. I gave him a weak smile and and averted his eyes by staring at the curtain.

"It's okay. I really don't need to know," the Sheriff started, "I'll see you later then, okay?"

"Okay dad." And I heard the door close behind him.

I let out a loud sigh of relief, and Stiles just stood there searching my eyes. His mouth moved as he looked for words, but he failed time and time again.

Without a third person to slice the tension, we stood awkwardly in silence. I was caught staring at his naked body, and he knew it despite my innocent look.

I shrugged my shoulders and opened the curtain to step out before it got even more awkward. I acted regularly until he could now longer see me. I soon rested my hands on the sink and closed my eyes until I registered back to normal.

I breathed. _Stiles is my friend, Stiles is my friend._ I thought over and over until I was able to clear my head. I straightened back out, patted down my skirt, and picked up the curling iron as if nothing happened.


End file.
